"You're some detective."

"Yes, ma'am. What else do you have?"

She moved some papers around and said, "I got the DA to subpoena the Gordons' phone records for the last two years."

I sat up. "Yes?"

"Well, as you'd expect, a lot of calls back home-parents, friends, relatives, and so forth-Indiana for Tom, Illinois for Judy. Lots of calls to Plum Island, service people, restaurants, and on and on. A few calls to the Peconic Historical Society, calls to Margaret Wiley, two to the Maxwell residence, one to Paul Stevens at his Connecticut home, and ten calls to you over the last twelve weeks."

"That would be about right."

"It is right. Also, about two or three calls a month to Tobin Vintners in Peconic as well as Fredric Tobin in Southold and Fredric Tobin in Peconic."

I said, "The gentleman has a house on the water in Southold and keeps an apartment at the winery, which is in Peconic."

She looked at me. "How do you know all that?"

"Because Emma-the president of the Peconic Historical Society, who just left-is a close friend of Mr. Tobin. Also, I was invited to a party at His Lordship's waterfront home tomorrow night. I think you should be there."

"Why?"

"It's a good opportunity to chat with some locals. Max will probably be there."

She nodded. "Okay."

"You should get the details from Max. I don't actually have a formal invite."

"Okay."

"Phone calls."

She looked down at her sheets of computer printouts and said, "In May of last year, there were four phone calls from London, England, charged to their phone credit card… one each to Indiana and Illinois, one to the general number on Plum Island, and a forty-two-minute call to Fredric Tobin in Southold."

"Interesting."

"What's with Mr. Fredric Tobin?"

"I'm not sure."

"Tell me the part you're sure of."

"I think you were giving a report, and I don't want to interrupt."

"No, it's your turn, John."

"I'm not playing that game, Beth. You finish, just as if you're briefing a roomful of bosses. Then I'll tell you what I.'ve discovered."

She thought a moment, clearly not wanting to be bamboozled by John Corey. She asked me, "Do you have anything?"

"I do. I truly do. Proceed."

"Okay… where was I?"

"Phone records."

"Yes. There are twenty-five months' worth here, which is about a thousand calls, and I'm having them computer-analyzed. I did turn up an interesting fact-when the Gordons got here in August two years ago, they first rented a house in Orient, near the ferry, then moved to the Nassau Point house only four months later."

I asked, "Was the Orient house on the water?"

"No."

"There's the answer. Within four months of coming here, they decided they needed a house on the water and a dock and a boat. Why?"

"That," said Beth, "is what we're trying to figure out."

"Right." I'd already figured it out. It had to do with the Gordons somehow discovering that something on Plum Island needed to be found and dug up. So, way back in the autumn of two years ago, the first part of the plot-getting a house on the water, then a boat-was already in place. I said to Beth, "Proceed."

"All right… Plum Island. They're being cute there, and I had to get rough with them."

"Good for you."

"I had the entire contents of the Gordons' office transported by ferry to Orient Point, then loaded on a police truck, and transported to the Suffolk County lab."

"The taxpayers of the county will be happy to hear that."

"Also, I had their office fingerprinted and vacuumed and had a padlock put on it."

"My goodness. You're thorough."

"This is a double homicide, John. How do you handle a double homicide in the city?"

"We call the Department of Sanitation. Please proceed."

She took a deep breath. She said, "Okay… I also obtained the directory of everyone who works on Plum Island, and we have five detectives assigned to do interviews."

I nodded. "Good. I want to interview Donna Alba myself."

"I'm sure you do. If you find her, let us know."

"Gone?"

"Vacation." Beth added, "That's what I mean about them being cute."

"Right. They're still covering up. They can't help it. It's in their bureaucratic bones." I said, "Where are your buddies, Nash and Foster?"

"They're not my buddies, and I don't know. Around, but not visible. They left the Soundview."

"I know. Okay, next."

"I got a court order to take into evidence all the government weapons on Plum Island, including the.45 automatics, a few revolvers, and a dozen M-16s, and two World War Two carbines."

"My goodness. Were they going to invade us?"

She shrugged. "It's a lot of Army stuff, left over, I guess. Anyway, they howled about giving up the armory. I'm having each weapon test-fired by ballistics, and we'll have a report on each one in case we ever find a slug."

"Good thinking." I asked, "When will you re-arm Plum Island?"

"Probably Monday or Tuesday."

I said, "I saw some Marine Corps activity at the ferry. I guess after you disarmed poor Mr. Stevens' security force, they felt they needed protection."

"Not my problem."

I said, "By the way, I'm sure they didn't give you the whole arsenal."

"If they didn't, I'll get an arrest warrant for Stevens."

No judge was going to issue that warrant, but it didn't matter so I said, "Please proceed."

"Okay, more Plum Island. I paid a surprise call on Dr. Chen, who lives in Stony Brook. I got the distinct impression she had been coached before we met her in the lab, because she could not extemporize when I spoke to her in her house." Beth added, "I got Dr. Chen to say that yes, maybe, perhaps, possibly, the Gordons stole a dangerous virus or bacteria."

I nodded. This was very good police work, top-notch procedural. Some of it was relevant, some of it was not. As far as I knew, there were only three people who would use the words "pirate treasure" in regard to this case-me, Emma, and the murderer.

Beth said, "I re-interviewed Kenneth Gibbs, also at his house. He lives in Yaphank, not far from my office. He's a bit of a snot, but aside from that, I don't think he knows any more than he's told us." She added, "Paul Stevens is another story…"

"Indeed he is. Did you speak to him?"

"I tried to… he's been giving me the slip." She added, "I think he knows something, John. As security chief of Plum Island, there's not too much that gets past that guy."

"Probably not."

She looked at me and asked, "Do you think he's a suspect?"

"He makes me suspicious, so he's a suspect."

She thought a moment, then said, "This is not very scientific, but he looks like a killer."

"He sure does. I have a whole class called 'People Who Look and Act Like Killers.'"

She didn't know if I was pulling her leg or not, which, actually, I wasn't. She said, "Anyway, I'm trying to run a background check on him, but the people who would have the most information-the FBI-are dragging their feet."

"Actually, they've already done what you're asking them to do, but they're not going to share any of it with you."

She nodded and said unexpectedly, "Fucked-up case."

"That's what I've been telling you." I asked her, "Where does Stevens live?"

"Connecticut. New London. There's a government ferry from New London to Plum."

"Give me his address and phone number."

She found it in her notes and started to write it out, but I said, "I have a photographic memory. Just tell me."

She looked at me, again with an expression of slight disbelief. Why doesn't anyone take me seriously? In any case, she told me Paul Stevens' address and phone number, which I tucked away in a crevice of my brain. I stood and said, "Let's take a walk."